


Once Frozen, Twice Shy

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Eden Raid Spoilers, Gen, Missing Scene, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Slight Canon Divergence, square i miss my family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: When Ryne has troubles she can find no explanation for she goes to Urianger, the man with all the answers.
Relationships: Ryne | Minfilia & Urianger Augurelt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Once Frozen, Twice Shy

The Empty was quiet this time of night, though thankfully it was not the eerie kind of quiet. No, instead it was a peaceful silence, one interrupted only by the barely-there whistle of the wind and the slow, gentle churn of the water nearby. Wind, and water, mind you, that they had to return to this barren land through sweat and blood. Not their sweat and blood, though, but the Warrior of Light’s—who was only happy to help, of course. 

Wildlife had not yet returned to the incomplete wasteland-turning-paradise and so no birds or bugs chirped, but that was of little consequence when compared to the peace the blanket of soil and night sky provided. It was almost a miracle that this place—one in once so drenched in light—could have a night sky at all, but it was one all who viewed it were eternally grateful for. It was a promise that no matter how hard it got, things will always get better someday—even if that  _ someday  _ took a hundred years. 

Beneath that night sky the camp in the Empty was aglow with the soft light of a campfire. It was burning steadily, lighting the way. The camp’s occupants (halved with the Gaia and Warrior of Light having already left to the Crystarium, and with Gaia likely already looking for a jeweller to turn Ryne’s eternal ice shard into something wearable) slumbered soundly, though one stayed alert, his nose buried so deeply into his book it was naught but his pointed ears that suggested a head was behind it at all. Though, it was not only he who did not sleep, but another as well. 

The silence was broken by the sound of a tent flap shucking open. Ryne peered out from the entrance, a light blue blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her eyes were tired—exhausted even, drained completely by her time as Saint Shiva—but she was otherwise wide awake. 

“Ah, Urianger,” came her voice, low and soft as though she was afraid of waking someone. She did not seem surprised by his presence. “You’re still awake.”

Urianger lifted his head from his book, resting his pen between the crevice of the pages. “And so art thou, evidently. Is there aught troubling thee?” 

“Um,” Ryne started, not meeting his eye. Urianger frowned at the display, quickly growing concerned. “Can I come sit down?” 

Urianger gave her a warm smile. “Of course, my dear, thou needent ask.” 

Ryne returned his smile, but there was something a bit shaky about it, something hindered by the downward pinch of her brow. She shuffled over, taking a seat beside Urianger. There was a moment of stiffness to her movement, and though she was holding herself back from something, 

She looked to him, eyeing the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

Ryne is clearly stalling for time, unwilling to share the reason for her sleeplessness just yet. Fortunately, Urianger was always easily distracted with questions of his work. 

Urianger placed the book to the side. “Ah, ‘tis not reading, but writing. This is to be a record of our work here upon the Empty—aetherological records rather than fantastical ones—so that those who walk after can step with eyes unclouded by history.” 

“You seem to know what that’s like,” Ryne commented. 

Urianger felt a smile curl at his lips.  _ How astute _ , he thought. “Aye, ‘tis like that I would. I hath spun the tale of mine foray into Sharlayan prophetics at an earlier juncture, I presume.” 

Ryne nodded. “You have. It was interesting… so much of this world’s history was lost with the Flood so it was nice to imagine a place where such old writings could have prevailed through time.” 

Urianger hummed in agreement. “A great tragedy hath befallen this star from which the scars are like to remain.” 

It was a truth they had quickly all come to realise as immutable. Even as they struggled against this world’s fate they all knew, deep down, that no matter how hard they tried or how well they succeeded a part of the First will be forever lost to their own Calamity. Land, lives, history, all gone in the blink of an eye, never to return again. 

“But ones that can do nothing now but fade,” Ryne continued. Urianger’s eyes widened a fraction at the words. “Wounds hurt when you receive them, but once the cut seals and the skin patches over it's not so bad anymore, is it?” Ryne looked out into the Empty, her eyes scanning the horizon. “This scar is still new. It will get easier with time, I think. People heal from all manner of things.”

And there was Ryne’s truth, one born of a life lived bathed in light. For those born beneath everlasting daylight and ignorant of other worlds the real truth was that things could only improve from here. Though Ryne was not as unknowing of the other shards as others upon the First she was amongst them in that she has never  _ lived _ anywhere but the First, never seen a world without tragedy. She was of this world, and her endless bounds of hope were a reflection of that. It was nigh on infectious. 

“Aye, and so too shall the land, I pray,” Urianger conceded. 

Ryne gave a quiet laugh of agreement. “Yes. I think we’ve made a good start.” 

Urianger watched Ryne gaze out into the Empty, watching her eyes be filled with wonder and joy. To know that all of this was ultimately due to her actions, her bravery, and her perseverance, was heartwarming. If nothing else their endeavours here in the Empty would be worth it if only to make a single girl smile. 

It was as he watched her, however, that Urianger could see she was shivering, even from beneath the blanket. Her fingers gripped the sheet tight, and the tip of her nose was noticeably red. It made him frown. Was this why she wasn’t sleeping? Was this why she had come to him? As tired as she was he doubted she’d forgo rest for something as minute as idle smalltalk about their work. 

“Thou art trembling, child,” Urianger commented. 

Ryne’s eyes widened a fraction. Her gaze became downcast. “Oh, um. Yeah. I am.” Her words were strained, as though she was trying desperately not to make her teeth chatter. 

“If thou believeth that thou hast aught to fear—“ 

Ryne shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s not that.” She huffed a heavy sigh. “Do you know where Thancred is?”

“He is like to be well beneath the drape of slumber by this hour, having retired to his tent some bells ago.” Urianger made to stand. “Shall I fetch him for thee? I assure thee that he would not mind being roused for such an occasion as thy distress.” 

“No!” Ryne yelped, her voice bordering on a squeak. Her hand darted out from beneath the blanket to catch Urianger’s wrist before he could stand, halting his movement. At her request, he made to sit once more. “No,” she said, slightly less desperately, some of the edge fading from her voice. “Thancred can’t know. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

That did little to alleviate the bubbling fear in Urianger’s breast. He quirked a brow at her. “Thou wisheth to avoid him?” Urianger eyed her warily. “And it is for this reason that thou hast inquired as to his whereabouts?” 

Ryne nodded. Her eyes were wide as she pleaded, “Please, Urianger, don’t—-“

Urianger held up a placating hand. “Calm thyself. I assure thee that whatever thou hast to say, it will be for mine ears only.” 

Ryne breathed a heavy sigh. “Thank you.” She fiddled with her fingers for a moment, hesitating on her next words. Urianger gave her what he hoped was a supportive look. “I can’t… I can’t stop shivering. There’s this… lingering presence of Light… and ever since I was freed from Shiva’s embrace it has felt like I’m freezing, like I’ll never be warm again. It’s like wearing wet clothes, but I’m completely dry. I bury myself in blankets and all that does it make me even more aware of how  _ cold  _ I am. It’s like Shiva never…” Ryne swallowed, pausing. “Never left. There must be something wrong, I know it.” 

Those were worrying words to hear, to say the least. Urianger cleared his throat. “May I look upon thine arm?”

Ryne nodded, fishing her arm out from beneath the blanket. She stuck it out, holding it out in front of Urianger. He placed his hands on her skin, and almost recoiled at how ice cold it was. It was as though Ryne had been laying in snow for a bell. He closed his eyes and let his magic reach out to her, calling from the stars hanging to easily above him. 

Ryne was worrying at her lip. The nervousness in his shoulders was probably not doing much to help alleviate her shaking. 

Urianger brought his hand to his chin in thought. He thought through the reasons for this ailment, and concluded it to be thus; “I believe I have a theory—those who are tempered are transformed so by a polarity shift within their aetheric balance, one that is so great that the body cannot redress it. It is possible that thou hast experienced a shift in thy aetheric balance towards ice and light, and towards stasis, and this is thy body repelling against it. ‘Tis the only explanation as thou art otherwise unharmed,” his voice was calm as he spoke. 

Ryne, however, made a small and awfully terrified noise, one caught in her throat as though she never meant to make it. Urianger was jolted from his thoughts by it, realising that he’d just said something quite terrifying. His worries were confirmed when he saw the hint of a sheen in Ryne’s eyes and knew they were beginning of tears of fear. 

“Isn’t that how Sineaters are born?” Ryne asked, her voice strained and quiet. 

Urianger nodded, but quickly followed his movement with an explanation. “In a sense, but it is more complicated than that. Thy body still repels the aether, thereby attempting to return itself to regularity. The patients at Journey's End did not, as far as I was able to garner, experience such symptoms. They were almost always already lost to the light.” 

Ryne looked at him with still worried eyes. “What does this mean, then?”

“It means that in time, it is like to be that all will be well once more,” Urianger explained. “Illness is not merely the existence of a virus, but the symptoms created by the body’s battle against it.” He paused, placing a hand on her head, hoping to soothe some of her worries away. From the gentle sniffle that came after he did so, he could guess that it was. “That thy body fighteth against the imbalance is a good thing. Though thou might suffer in the now, it is to be that thou wilt flourish in the after.” 

There was a moment of silence before Ryne said, “So I’ll be alright.”

Urianger smiled, glad that the fear was beginning to leave her. “Thou art a fighter, art thou not? Something as trivial as an aetheric imbalance should be naught but an irritation to thee.” 

The relief in the sigh Ryne heaved was palpable. “Thank you, Urianger. I knew you’d have an answer for all this. You usually do.” Ryne paused, pouting. “I’m still cold...”

“That is not like to fade for a moment, but mayhap it can be alleviated,” Urianger said, making to stand. He made his way to the side of one of their tents, reaching for a piece of firewood from their supply. Once within his hands it was easy enough to place into the fire, feeding the flames so that they might grow warmer. 

“May I…?” Ryne asked, shifting closer to him as he sat once more. Urianger gave her an honest nod and lifted his arm. 

She moved closer, pressing against his side. Once he felt her there he moved his arm to place it over her shoulders, pulling the blanket tighter. With her against him he could feel her shivering and his heart ached. Poor girl. He felt partially responsible for her plight, having not protested her plan. Still, it had been  _ her  _ plan, and it had been important that he not work against it. He, nor Thancred, would be around to say no forever. 

“ _ Promise _ you won’t tell Thancred?” Ryne said quietly. “It’d just make him worry… and probably make him say that he told me so.” 

“Of course. I swear it upon mine pinky.”

Ryne recoiled back, giving him a perplexing look. “Huh?” 

Urianger blinked. “Ah, ‘tis a foolish game children upon the source play. Thou art to wrap thy pinkie fingers around one another, promising eternal truth.”

“Oh. Well, pinky swear, then!” 

Ryne held out her hand, her pinky sticking upward. Urianger held out his own free hand and placed his—comically larger—pinky against hers. He could almost laugh. He hadn’t pinky swore a thing in years. Maybe he should try doing so again. 

“You know so much about the world,” Ryne said. “Would you tell me something about your home? The other world of yours, I mean—where you and Thancred are really from.” 

“Of course. What is it thou wisheth to know?”

Ryne paused in thought. “What about something from when you were younger? Something about where you were born? I don’t remember where I was born, only that it wasn’t Eulmore, and I will likely never know.” 

And so Urianger told her of Sharlayan, and of Louisoix, and of the Twins, and the Archons, and even in passing of Moenbryda, though her name still felt heavy and painful against his tongue. He told her of the school and the of Thaliak River, told her of his home’s moon and stars. Ryne barely spoke a word, but he talked enough for the both of them. 

Though Ryne’s shivering eventually began to fade it did not completely disappear, and likely would not without a good night's rest—one that she was thankfully on her way towards with her heavy eyes drooping. Urianger shuffled her back off to bed before she could fall asleep against his side. With a sleepy grumble she acquiesced to his suggestion and padded back into her tent, leaving him alone once more with his work. 

Though he would easily call himself Ryne’s mentor, he would hesitate to say that he was any more. He thought that could not be her father, for Thancred had already filled that role in her life, but his heart said otherwise—and so did Ryne’s, if he would ever care to ask her. When she spoke of the man who saved her, Urianger’s name was sure to follow; Thancred  _ and  _ Urianger. He was the smartest man she knew, and he was her family she thought she would never have, and to her he always would be. 


End file.
